


Purifying the Darkness

by Mersheeple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Horcruxes, Psychological Torture, dark rituals, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: Malfoy Manor had had dark artifacts. The Gibbons Homestead had had cursed objects. But what they find in the Lestrange House is more horrifying than anything else...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48
Collections: SSHG Spooktober Fest 2020





	Purifying the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely came up with a hundred ideas for this prompt originally and not a single one of them was this. But then this came into my head and I figured...what better time than Spooktober?
> 
> Love all my Hearts and Cauldrons people!

The two of them had been working together for three years, ever since she had graduated from Hogwarts. She worked, technically, for the Ministry as an Advanced Curse Breaker. Her job was to neutralise all the houses of the Death Eaters who had either passed away or been given life in prison. The houses, once completely free of curses and Dark Magic, were either destroyed and built into something entirely new (like the Gibbon’s Homestead which had been destroyed and rebuilt into a second branch of Gringotts) or cleansed fully and gifted to displaced young adults (like the Mulciber Manor, now owned by Luna Lovegood and her father).

Miss Granger, Hermione, had asked him to help her with Malfoy Manor. She had told him that she couldn’t handle some of the rooms and he had nodded and acquiesced. He had questioned why Malfoy Manor was even being cleansed, seeing as Narcissa and Draco were both on probation. Hermione had smiled sadly and told him that, as a condition of the probation, Narcissa Malfoy was banned from entering the Manor, Lucius had been given life imprisonment and Draco…after what had happened to her, Draco Malfoy had decided to never live in Malfoy Manor.

He hated this room. It was dark and lonely and creepy and the hands coming from the wall made him want to scream. They reached towards him, touching his face, his arms, his legs, his neck, his torso. They stroked his eyebrows and his eyelids. They made him see things. They made him remember things.

He saw her, Lily, her body broken and abused. He saw the boy, Harry, crying in his crib. He saw the broken hearts and broken lives from the second World War; Cedric Diggory, the first casualty of the war, Charity Burbage, the first he had to watch die, Florean Fortescue, the kindly old man that the Death Eaters had enjoyed giving to their new recruits to torture and eventually kill, Alastor Moody, Vincent Crabbe, Fred Weasley, Lupin, Dora Tonks, Colin Creevey…so many dead, so many lifeless eyes, so many gone…He screamed, shut his eyes and pulled away from the hands.

The laughter echoed around him and he screamed again, choking on the blood and poison of the snake, clawing at his throat and his chest, screaming and screaming and moving backwards. The hands released his throat and he cried out in relief.

He stared at the wall, the hands reaching towards him, the silver liquid pouring between the fingers. He had asked what it was. He was not sure he really wanted to know. He asked the girl, Hermione Granger. She had been tasked with investigating the Lestrange Manor and removing all the curses, all the Dark Magic. She had asked him for help, and he had promised he would help as long as if he did not have to go in that room.

“Severus? Severus, can you hear me?” He heard the girl calling his name, hitting on the door, breaking it down and running towards him, pulling him into her arms. He sobbed, choking on the depression, the pain, the tang of blood from where he had screamed and damaged his throat, tainting his every breath.

“Oh Severus, I promised you wouldn’t need to come into this room. Why did you come here? What is wrong with you?” She shook her head and looked at him with sorrow in her eyes.

“I needed to…to see what happened…to see what it was…” His throat hurt, he ached everywhere, he stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying.

“Severus, we said I would do this room. Why must you be so _bloody_ stubborn? I haven’t even checked it over.”

“But…but you have…you told me it was just…you told me it was safe. You told me…” Severus trailed off, his eyes flicking to the wall as he heard a cackling that made his blood run cold. Hermione froze and looked towards the wall. The silver liquid pouring between the hands began flowing quicker and puddling on the floor, the drain at the bottom no longer open, no longer sucking the liquid back to rotate through the hands again. The door slammed behind them and their heads whipped around before the laughter started again. Hermione and Severus looked back towards the liquid running through the fingers of the hands in the wall. The puddle coalesced into a near solid mass, rippling and pulsing into an image that neither had ever wanted to see again.

“Poor Sevvy looks so sad lying on the ground. Aren’t you happy to see me Sevvy?” The voice sounded like nails on a chalk board and he shivered under the emotions it invoked. The hideous demonic creature looked at the two of them and then, with glowing black eyes, it began to set upon Hermione.

“Filthy little Mudblood! You dare come into my house! You dare come near the great house of Lestrange!” Hermione whimpered as her arm began to bleed and twitch, spasming as the old scar opened up. Bellatrix Lestrange’s laugh grated on her nerves and Hermione cried out. The silver liquid moved towards them and they were frozen in fear, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think as it, she, moved towards them.

“Little Mudblood Bitch! Get out of my house! Get out of my house! GET OUT!!!” Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, running towards them both and pooling over their bodies.

_She was on the marble floor of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix pinning her down as she writhed in pain. She screamed as Bellatrix cast Crucio, the pain arching her back, making her scream and cry out, begging for her life, begging for death. She felt the echoes of the Crucio, the torture that eventually, she knew, would leave her unable to have children. Would leave her alone without any family, the Weasley’s having abandoned her when Ronald had broken up with her. She still had Harry, of course, but only when his wife was not around. Or when his Auror partner was not around. Or when his mother-in-law was not around. Or when…_   
_She screamed again, her back arching, the pain radiating from her hips and through her abdomen. A voice she had not heard last time whispered into her ear and she tried desperately to focus on it._

“You’re ok, you’re safe, Hermione you are ok. You are so safe. I will not hurt you. She can _not_ hurt you anymore. She is just a…just a memory.” Severus’s voice broke through her pain and she realised that she was lying in his arms, still covered in silver liquid, both of them shivering and cold. The liquid began to roll and slide, coalescing again into the beastly demonic form of Bellatrix.

“Severus, what is she?” Hermione mumbled and whimpered into his ear and he shuddered at the touch of her breath against his ear. She shifted in his arms and brushed against his body and it felt more solid, more real than even the marble had.

“I am Bellatrix Black Lestrange, of the Noble Houses of Black and Lestrange, and I am angry, and you are in my house! You are not welcome here!” The apparition stood screaming and wailing and angry and Hermione shuddered in his arms again.

“Hermione she’s, she’s more than a memory. I don’t understand what she is. A hundred people saw her die.” Severus’s voice was close to her ear and soothed her more than she would have expected. His words, though, sparked something in her.

“No. Severus, you’re wrong. A hundred people saw her explode. Just like…just like Voldemort, just like him. Wasn’t she his favourite? What if…what if…?” Hermione trailed off; the idea too disturbing to comprehend. The abomination formerly known as Bellatrix Lestrange screamed and rushed them again, the bulk of the liquid splashing onto Severus. His eyes widened and a rictus of a smile graced his face as he shuddered in pain. Severus would not scream like she had; Hermione was sure of that.

_Severus lay on the floor of the Lestrange Manor, his arm held against his chest as he whimpered in pain. The Dark Mark was new, still bleeding, black as pitch and burning as it writhed under his skin. He had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of screaming and soiling himself. He had seen the laughter in their eyes, their faces when the others had joined the Death Eaters that night. He had joined with a small group, no more than seven of them. All were Purebloods. Except him. Scraggy, scrawny, dirt poor…he did not fit in here. He never would._   
_“Sev? Mate get up. It’s over. Time for the fun stuff.” Severus heard the voice of his friend, the one person who had believed he was a good match to the organization. Regulus. Oh, that hurt. Regulus Black hauled him to his feet using his good arm and embraced him. He was one of them now. Accepted. Finally, accepted for what he could do._   
_“Severus, a word if I might?” It sounded like a request but was, in actual fact, a demand. One did not say no to Lord Voldemort. Especially not on the night of one’s inauguration. He bowed low, mildly unsteady as the pain ripped through him again. They walked together, heading into a separate room where the Dark Lord sat on a chair that looked more like a throne than anything else. Severus fell to his knees in front of Lord Voldemort, keeping himself lower than the megalomaniac._

He remembered…wait, he remembered this…Severus gasped and pulled himself out of the memory. Hermione was shakily smiling at him as Bellatrix stood and screamed.

“She’s the memory that was sealed into a Horcrux. We need to find…find whatever it is that crazy bitch put her soul into. It’s going to be something special, glamourous…she wants to think she is important. She’s less sane than Riddle ever was. We need to find something to destroy the Horcrux…” Severus trailed off as Hermione smirked at him.

“Do you think I travelled for a year and didn’t keep some of my habits?” Hermione cast a wandless, wordless Accio and her beaded bag hit against the outside of the door to the room they were trapped in. She swore under her breath and Severus couldn’t help but chuckle. She looked at him and he raised an eyebrow at her, amused by her folly. She was momentarily conflicted, hating the idea of being laughed at and at the same time, amused that he was laughing at her, in his own way. She pushed herself up, staying in a crouched position that reminded him that she, too, had fought in a War. He sat upright, pulling himself into an awkward position in order to help her.

“I’ll distract Bellatrix, you get whatever that was, and we will destroy this thing.” He ran towards the wall of hands and, with a scream, Bellatrix charged towards him, distracted from the door by his move towards the hands. Hermione took the opportunity to run towards the door, pulling it open and picking up her bag from the floor. She reached into the bag and pulled out a Basilisk Fang and a shed Unicorn Horn. She looked over at Severus and swore. Bellatrix had him pinned against the wall, one of the hands around his throat and her body pressed against his, her lips on his lips. Hermione growled softly in her throat. It was time to destroy the Horcrux.

In Hermione’s research, Post War of course, she had found that there were two methods to create a Horcrux. The first and, strangely, simplest way, was the way in which Tom Riddle had attempted to make himself immortal. The first required a blood sacrifice and the use of a simple set of Runes, a Potion and an extremely specific and complicated Charm. The second way, which Hermione recognised was the way that Bellatrix had used to create a Horcrux, was a much darker and more dangerous ritual. It required a sacrifice of something far stronger and purer than blood.

Could Bellatrix truly have given everything just for a chance of immortality? The question made Hermione pause. Yes, yes she would. Bellatrix was complete batshit insane. Of course, she would. Of course, she would do something equally batshit crazy. Hermione stared at the silver apparition and knew what she had to do. She had studied the ritual a dozen times and knew exactly how to reverse it. She reached into her bag again, pulling out a few more things; a Manticore sting, an Adder’s fork, two Griffin claws, a Dragon scale and three Jobberknoll feathers. She pulled out a vial of a bright red liquid that she had held dear to her for a long time. She breathed through her nose slowly and softly and placed the items on the floor. She hoped Severus could keep the spectre busy for just long enough to get the ritual started, preferably to the point where it would be finished.

She opened the vial and dipped the end of one of the Jobberknoll feathers into the potent smelling Clabbert Pus, harvested by hand from the Clabbert Pustules that had cost her a pretty penny in Diagon Alley. She oriented herself, pointed herself North and drew an inverted Algiz Rune on the floor. She turned to face South and drew the same symbol again. She took a breath and, using the Manticore sting, she stabbed her hand and let the blood run from her palm, over her fingers and drop down on to the floor. She made the drops into a circle, running directly through the two Algiz symbols. The circle she was now standing in began to turn darker, deep purple almost black. She began to chant, whispering words too low and too tainted for anyone to hear, her skin darkening and her eyes flashing red. She spoke with confidence, moving the Griffin claws and Dragon scales into position without being heard. It was when the circle turned black that the demon spawned by Bellatrix Lestrange in an act of desperation finally noticed the ritual.

“No! No, get away! Get away from that! What are you doing Mudblood bitch? Get away! Stop that!” The apparition started to scream and cry out, weakened already by the ritual that Hermione was performing. The ritual was almost ending as Bellatrix headed towards the red-eyed, dark-skinned Muggleborn witch bleeding all over the marble floor. Hermione screamed the last part of the ritual and Bellatrix stopped still.

“…Arce quietam mortem…Ne hunc autem finem…Occidere vatis!” The silver being of Bellatrix Lestrange ran towards her and she knew she would only have one shot. The phantom crossed the trail of blood that made the circle and then screamed, backing up as her feet started to turn black, a creeping oil like substance moving through the echo of veins. Hermione stood her ground, watching with fascination as Bellatrix Lestrange began to burn and crumble from the inside out; an oily sticky mass of ashes began to grow inside the circle. Hermione repeated the last line of the spell, closing the portal to Hell she had opened inside of Bellatrix’s animated memory. The vile witch burned and dissipated, the ashes drawn to the inverted Algiz Rune, proof she was finally, irrevocably, irreparably dead.

“Hermione? Hermione?” She stood still in the centre of the circle, blood still oozing slowly around the Manticore sting. It would continue to ooze as long as the sting was embedded in her as the Manticore venom was a known anti-coagulant. Her skin had turned almost completely black but was beginning to lighten to her more natural tone, though she looked more tanned than when they had first arrived at the Lestrange Manor. It was dewy with sweat and flushed, her lips parted as she sucked in deep breaths. Her hair, wild and untamed as ever, had finally stopped writhing like snakes now that the apparition was gone. Her eyes, once whiskey brown with flecks of gold, had changed to a deep mahogany brown now. She looked like a warrior, a Valkyrie. He made to approach her, but her voice stopped him, her lips unmoving, her thoughts echoing in his head.

“Severus, if you can hear me, I need you to leave the room. The ritual I just performed is the same one that Bellatrix performed. If you stay I will complete the ritual and then what happened to her will happen to me. She gave up her innocence, in every sense of the word, to perform the ritual herself. I cannot leave this circle until the room is empty. If I leave the circle now, I will want to complete the ritual with the nearest male.” Severus paused, unable to believe what she was saying.

“Hermione, are you saying that if you are to complete the ritual, you would lose your virginity? Is that what happened to Bellatrix?” Severus questioned her, though he knew he should leave and do as she had asked.

“It’s what Bellatrix did. She gave her virginity to someone after this ritual. It tore her soul into three pieces. One piece stayed here, trapped in this room until two people of opposite genders were in here together, waiting to possess someone innocent. The second piece stayed in her body and the third was in the body of the person she performed the ritual with. I am guessing it was Riddle. When he died, it killed off part of her soul. It’s no wonder she went mad. Anyone would have. Though I doubt she was completely sane to begin with. Now, unless you want to own part of my soul, can I suggest you get out of here?” She heard him sigh softly and head towards the door. She smiled sadly, thankful that he had listened to her, though it pained her to know that she was alone. That was just the ritual of course, making her feel that way.

“And what if I do?” His voice was right by her ear, causing her to startle. His breath light against the shell of her ear, he repeated himself. “What if I do want to own part of your soul? You must know you own mine…” He slid his arms around her waist and slowly, ever so slowly, stepped inside the circle with her. She turned in his arms, facing him, her eyes wide as she looked up into his dark eyes.

“But…why? Why would you want my soul?” She stared at him, her body warming in his grasp as the ritual fed her passion, drawing her closer to him, desperate for just one taste of him. She stood on tiptoe, leaning against him as he bent his head to kiss her. Their lips touched and a pulse she had never felt before, deep inside her abdomen, a warmth she did not understand in her groin. His lips and tongue traced around hers and she felt herself melt. He lowered her to the floor, the blood smearing as their hands stroked along their bodies, their lips and hands stroking and moving and grasping at each other.

The whole house shook as they took their pleasure, her for the first time, him for the first time that truly mattered. Their souls touched, their bodies joined, and their lives intertwined, now, forever and always.


End file.
